


Schism

by jericho



Category: Backstreet Boys
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 06:34:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/428010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jericho/pseuds/jericho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick and Howie form a new bond, and everyone notices. Even the media.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Schism

**Author's Note:**

> Written circa 2000.

*** 

schism (skzm, sz-) n. A separation or division into fractions. 

*** 

When Howie and Nick giggled their way down the red carpet at the Grammys, touching hands and bumping shoulders, Kevin was not impressed. 

Kevin wasn't even at the Grammys, but he'd seen it on TV. And it wasn't quite enough trauma to have a group meeting, but it was enough for a heart-to-heart talk. It would have been easy to blame the talk all on Kevin, to say that Kevin was uptight and demanding. But Howie knew, because he'd known Kevin for a long time, that Kevin was speaking on behalf of the rest of the group. Kevin was just the only one with the courage to say something. And in a way, he kind of admired Kevin for that. But it still didn't mean that he appreciated the talk. 

"You know," Kevin said, sitting across the table from them on the gently rolling tour bus, "it's not that we care what you guys do. I mean, whatever happens behind closed doors is your own business." 

Howie nodded, glancing over at Nick, hoping Nick wouldn't do something to make him giggle. They were used to the talks by now, and it was getting harder to take them seriously. 

"It's just that we don't want the rest of the world to know," Kevin said. "Like, there are enough rumors out there about us as it is. And we're supposed to keep a clean image." 

"And because we're together, we're going straight to hell?" Nick asked. Howie knew Nick was just asking it to be argumentative. They both understood what Kevin meant. 

"No. But, I mean, do you want the whole world to know that you guys are sleeping together?" 

Howie glanced at Nick again. This time, Nick glanced back. There was no easy answer to that question. It was hard to be with someone you were crazy about and not shout it from the roof of a building. But it wouldn't do anyone any good to have their fans know that two of them were into guys. 

"Right," Kevin said. "So just tone it down a little, maybe. Like I said, I don't care what you do behind closed doors. But you can't walk down the red carpet at a major awards show looking like you're in love." 

Howie saw Nick flinch a little. It was the words "in love." Were they in love? It was hard to judge something like that. There was no scale on which to measure it. No in-love-o-meter. Howie figured he was probably in love with Nick because it hurt when Nick wasn't around. He suspected Nick was in love with him because Nick had actually cried in front of him, and when they were separated for two days, Nick said "I miss you" over the phone. But it wasn't something they'd actually addressed. 

"Anyway," Kevin said, sliding out of the booth and stretching. "I'm going to catch some shut-eye." 

"You got quiet," Nick said in a low voice when Kevin disappeared. 

"Yeah. Sorry." 

"Am I going to have to make you talk?" 

Howie couldn't help but smile at the table. "Maybe." 

Nick chuckled a little. "You're asking for it, Dorough." 

"Oh no," Howie said in mock horror. 

Then they were kissing. Making out like a couple of teenagers. Because for the last few months, they hadn't been able to stop. It didn't matter how many disapproving looks they got from the other guys. Lately, it hadn't even mattered who was around. All Howie could focus on was his heart getting ready to burst at the seams, and Nick's strong hands and killer lips. And the word "dangerous" didn't even seem to apply to it. 

It was the third stop in a week where Nick and Howie had gotten separate rooms and left one of them untouched. The rooms were identical, so it didn't really matter which one they picked. Kevin extended a set of key cards to Nick and Nick didn't even take them. He just shook them off and smiled, lugging his suitcase down the hall behind Howie. 

The room was the same as any hotel room, but they went about making it comfy. Howie set up his bathroom stuff next to the clean porcelain sink. Nick turned on the television to MTV so they could lay in bed and watch it. And they both reached for the local newspaper, Howie getting to it first and pulling out the entertainment section so they could split it, reading their own halves before they switched. 

They spent the next hour lying in bed facing each other, Howie reading an article about Jennifer Lopez's new movie and Nick reading an article about U2. "Did you know Jennifer Lopez was a fly girl on In Living Color?" Howie asked. 

"No. Is that like one of the dancers?" 

"Pretty much. I've only seen it once." 

Nick sighed and looked down at his article, focusing on it for about 30 seconds before he tossed the paper over his shoulder. "I don't want to read anymore." Howie's half of the paper crinkled under Nick's body as he rolled closer, and they were kissing again. Except this time there was absolutely no one around and they had an entire hour to touch each other. They used it wisely. 

*** 

"I know the pieces fit cuz I watched them fall away,  
Pure intention juxtaposed will set two lovers' souls in motion" 

*** 

There were things that Howie had recently come to understand about Nick. He'd known Nick for what seemed like forever, but recently he'd realized that he'd never _really_ known him. And the things he'd uncovered couldn't be put into words, really. It was more like a deeper understanding of Nick's attitude, and his emotions, and how he reacted to certain things. And with this understanding, he found that he could finish Nick's sentences. He could predict the next words to come out of Nick's mouth, and actually started trying to say them at the same time as Nick. And it worked. 

AJ had set up a little portable TV on the bus, balancing it on the little counter next to the microwave. The screen was only about six inches wide, but Howie and Nick weren't really watching it anyway. 

AJ flipped through the channels, leaning over to hit the button as he scrolled through game shows and soap operas. It was prime middle of the afternoon TV. He stopped on what looked like the Young and the Restless, watching it for a couple of minutes with a look of vague curiosity. 

"Darling," Nick said in a breathy voice, pretending to imitate the actors on the screen. "Kiss me, darling." 

"I can't believe you're back from the dead," Howie said in the same voice. "I never thought you'd make it out of that volcano." 

"And the plastic surgery did wonders. You look like a whole different actor." 

"Yes, darling," Howie added. "And where are our children? Did they disappear with a babysitter and come back old enough to have a love interest?" 

They dissolved into giggles and AJ didn't even turn around. He leaned forward, focusing on the screen, and mumbled, "You guys are morons." 

And then Nick and Howie cried "Turn it!" at the exact same time. 

Howie wondered if it was the sex. Was it possible to exchange bodily fluids so much that you started to think the same way? Could having part of another person's body inside of you actually change you? He'd heard once that after 20 years of marriage, husbands and wives started to look alike. Could it be that he and Nick were edging closer and closer to becoming part of the same being? It was a wild thought. 

The new connection made for great sex, though. There was no discussion about top or bottom, giving or receiving, rough or gentle. He could look at Nick and know what Nick needed. Sometimes Nick needed to be held and his lowered eyelids kissed, and brought to orgasm through slow, gentle penetration. Sometimes Nick pinned Howie to the bed, his grip around Howie's wrists nearly brutal, and pounded into Howie like a rushing tidal wave. They guessed what the other wanted without any communication other than body language, and they were never wrong. Sometimes even sex didn't seem to be enough. Howie wished there was some way he could crawl into Nick's body, to find some way to get even closer, to unite the two halves of a whole. 

After the soap opera, they got to the hotel. Nick shook away the key card and went to Howie's room, and they went about christening it. Howie fished the newspaper he'd gotten from the lobby out of his bag, and they flopped on the bed and divided the entertainment section. 

Nick read for a few minutes and made a frustrated noise. 

"You don't want to read," Howie said. 

"No. Do you..." 

"No." 

Nick moved on top of him like a steamroller, wrapping his arms tightly around Howie. He did it with such enthusiasm that they kept rolling, and Nick had to grab the night stand to keep them from falling out of bed. That brought more giggles. Nick reached over and grabbed the hem of the bedspread and rolled back, pulling it over them until they were in a cocoon. 

"We don't even have our clothes off," Howie said. 

"Oh. Shit. We don't want anyone to see us naked." Nick pulled the blanket over their heads and started unbuttoning Howie's pants. 

"I can't breathe under here," Howie said, but he couldn't stop laughing. He tugged Nick's shirt off and emerged from under the blanket long enough to throw the shirt on the floor. 

Eventually they were naked, rolling around wrapped up in the blanket, giggling and kissing and getting increasingly hard from the body contact. Howie was a little worried that they'd fall out of bed and land on top of each other, trapped in the blanket like they were held together with duct tape. 

"I hear something," Howie said. 

"Probably AJ coming in to get in on the action." 

Howie giggled and pushed his hair out of his face. "Yeah, sure." They rolled so Howie was on top, and Howie paused. "Hang on. I seriously...." 

Nick yanked the blanket back so they could pop their heads out. Howie was the first one to look at the doorway and see the cleaning lady standing frozen, an empty garbage bag in her hand. 

"What?" Nick snapped. 

"I was going to...I clean the room...." 

Howie gulped. "It's occupied." 

"Get the fuck out of here," Nick ordered. 

The cleaning lady turned slowly and walked out, shutting the door behind her. They lay frozen for a second. 

"It's so hard to get good help these days," Nick said, and Howie started laughing again. 

At the show that night, Nick surprised everyone by walking up behind Howie, locking his arms around him and giving him a big, wet kiss on the cheek. The crowd went wild and Howie turned several shades of red. As soon as Nick danced away, Howie looked at AJ, who mouthed "What the fuck?" Nick saw it, too. Of course Nick saw it. These days, they always looked in the same direction. 

*** 

"I know the pieces fit cuz I watched them tumble down,  
Point the finger, blame the other, watch the temple topple over" 

*** 

When the bus rolled across the Canadian border, nudging towards Toronto, Howie and Nick were playing an impromptu game of Snap at the bus table. It was getting harder to play Snap, because it required slamming their hands on the table when they turned over the same card, and their reflexes were so in tune that it was always a tie. AJ was always up for a good card game, but lately he'd retreated to the back of the bus by himself. 

Somewhere along the 401, just after the generic city of Windsor, the bus veered off the road and came to an abrupt halt. 

"The hell?" Nick turned and faced the front of the bus, watching as the curtain opened and the bus driver's deep voice rumbled from the other side. 

"Kevin wants to talk to you," he said. 

Nick and Howie looked at each other. "Whatever," Howie said, throwing down his cards. "Want me to go get AJ?" 

"Yeah. He's got a porno mag back there. I'm afraid of what I'd see." 

"Yeah. You'd probably go blind." Howie walked back and stood next to AJ's closed curtain. "Knock knock." 

"Who's there?" 

"Howie." 

"Howie who?" 

Howie opened the curtain and found AJ lying on his back listening to his Walkman. "Kevin wants to talk to us." 

AJ sat up and followed Howie to the door, where Nick was already waiting. "This must be big," AJ said. "He stopped the bus." 

Howie had never thought of it that way, but AJ was probably right. They stepped off to find Kevin standing outside the bus, the wind blowing his hair around. 

"What?" Nick called. 

Kevin made a "come here" motion with his arm. 

"He looks pissed," Howie said. 

"I know," Nick replied. "Hold me." 

They snickered a little and walked on Kevin's bus behind AJ. Kevin strode to the middle of the bus, where Brian was sitting at the table chewing his thumbnail. 

"What?" Nick asked again. 

Kevin grabbed a tabloid-looking newspaper off the table and threw it at them. It fluttered frantically in the air and Nick had to scramble to catch it. "That's what." 

Howie read the paper over Nick's shoulder. Rosie discovers nanny's criminal record. Julia Roberts in eating disorder controversy. 

"Page four," Kevin said. 

Nick flipped to page four and Howie felt like he'd been doused with cold water. Backstreet Boys in gay love affair. There was a small photo of the whole group under the loud headline. 

It couldn't. It couldn't say what he thought it was going to say. 

Nick stared at the page for a second, and AJ finally yanked the paper out of Nick's hands and started reading. "Teen girls around the world scream over the Backstreet Boys, but little do they know that two of the boy band heartthrobs are actually in bed with each other." 

Howie grabbed the edge of the counter. "I need to sit down." 

AJ kept reading. "Sources close to the group say that Backstreet's cute blond member, Nick Carter, and its Latin lover, Howie Dorough, are involved in a gay relationship. Last week, a hotel maid spotted the two in bed together." 

"Oh my God," Nick moaned. 

Howie edged closer to the table. "I need to sit down." He felt around for a seat, his vision feeling a little blurred, and stopped when he realized that Nick was trying to sit in the same spot. 

"You take it," Nick said. 

"No, you take it." 

Nick sat down and rested his head in his hands. Howie looked around for another seat, then lost his energy and sat on the floor. 

"Maybe it's not a popular tabloid," Nick said. "It's not like it's the Enquirer, or...." 

Kevin yanked the paper out of AJ's hands. "It _is_ the fucking Enquirer. It's the fucking Enquirer, you moron. It's only the...." 

"Kevin," Brian said quietly, and Kevin stepped back and took a deep breath. "Okay. Damage control." 

"It's a tabloid," Nick told the floor. "Maybe no one will believe it." 

Kevin erupted again. "Why wouldn't they believe it? It's true!" Kevin whipped the newspaper in the direction of the table and Brian reached out and caught it. "You guys have only been acting like Romeo and Juliet for the past...." 

"Kevin," Brian said. 

Kevin took a deep breath and sat down at the table, resting his head in his hands so his position mirrored Brian's. Howie couldn't speak. Couldn't move. He could only sit there on the floor, wishing a hole would form in the floor of the bus and suck him into it. 

There was a long, unbearable moment of silence. Howie felt like someone had stabbed him in the heart. He couldn't stand to look at Nick. Couldn't stand to say anything. When he finally found the courage to speak, his words came out wispy and weak. "I'm sorry." 

"Has anyone called about this yet?" AJ asked. 

"No," Brian said. "It just hit the stands about an hour ago. They'll probably call in the next few minutes, though." 

There was another long pause, everyone in his own little world, thinking about the magnitude of that. Howie's mom would see it, he realized. His entire family. That seemed worse than millions of people. Having something so personal exposed felt to Howie like someone had opened one of his veins. 

"There's gonna be more of these," Kevin said. "Now that they're onto it, there's gonna be more of these. They're gonna be watching you guys like hawks, waiting to catch something." 

Howie wondered who the sources were, but it didn't really matter. It could be anyone. Someone from their management team. Their bus driver. An ex girlfriend. Any member of their entourage. Someone who had been to a party where he and Nick had been giggling and acting like teenagers. Actually, the way they were connected lately, he was amazed the entire world didn't know. 

"We gotta go," Brian said. "We can talk about this when we hit Toronto." 

The three of them filed out, walking wordlessly back to the bus. AJ went back to his bunk and closed the curtain, leaving Howie and Nick at the table, staring at the remnants of their card game. 

Howie watched the scenery for a few minutes, biting the inside of his cheek so hard that he tasted the subtle coppery flavor of his own blood. Watching them like hawks, Kevin had said. And Kevin was right. 

"We should stop," Nick said. 

Howie watched a transport truck pass them, a phone number painted across the back under a "how's my driving?" sticker. "Yeah." 

"I mean, maybe it's not fair to the other...." 

"I know." 

Nick watched him for a second, but Howie couldn't look at him. He heard Nick slide out of the booth, saw Nick head for the bunks in his peripheral vision. He'd never thought about what he would do without Nick. He was so dependent on Nick now for entertainment, for conversation, for affection. It was like starting all over again. 

*** 

"The light that fueled our fire then has burned a hole between us" 

*** 

Howie managed to act like a normal person for about two days. He passed Nick in the hallway of the bus and they maneuvered around each other so they wouldn't have to touch. He stayed in his bunk, reading and writing and doing whatever he could so he wouldn't have to go out. 

They arrived at the hotel in Albany, and Howie tried not to watch as Kevin distributed the key cards and Nick took a set for himself. Howie set up his stuff on the bathroom counter. Unpacked his good jacket and hung it up so it wouldn't wrinkle. Threw the newspaper in the garbage. Wished the wound would scab over and not be so fresh, not put a pain-induced haze over everything, setting him into this mode of heart-cracking unreality. Any of the politics behind the article - dealing with the record label, the media calls, The Firm - were handled by Kevin. To Howie, it barely registered. All he knew was that he no longer had Nick, and that was all his brain could hold. 

Two days without breaking down. Only a lifetime more to go. 

He sat cross-legged on his bed, tracing the swirling pattern on the bedspread with his fingertip. He heard a little knock on his door and tried to keep his heart from leaping. 

"D?" AJ said from the other side. 

"It's open." 

AJ walked in and shut the door carefully. "What're you up to?" 

"Just waiting." 

AJ walked over and sat on the bed. "Things are a little weird right now, I guess." 

"Yeah." Howie twisted a lock of his hair around his finger. He needed a haircut. 

"It'll get better, I think. Like, it just happened." 

"Yeah." If you looked at the bedspread the right way, the swirls started to look like a face. 

"We're just gonna deny that story. Probably not even acknowledge it. Try to keep a lid on it and keep our noses clean." AJ slid up farther on the bed and looked at Howie expectantly. "You wanna talk about anything?" 

"No," Howie said, which was a big lie. Maybe he should talk about it. Maybe it would make it easier. "It's just...I'm so used to Nick being around." 

"Yeah." 

"I'm used to getting here and coming in and...." Howie took a deep breath and willed himself to keep going. "...watching MTV and...." 

He didn't realize he was crying until he felt AJ's hand on his shoulder. It was like an out of body experience, the hurt close and distant at the same time. "You know how people lose a limb and they can still feel it there?" Howie asked. 

"Yeah." 

"That's what this feels like." 

And then he was crying in earnest, and the sobs made him buckle over. AJ straightened him out a little and wrapped his arms around him. It must have been months since he'd hugged AJ. 

"I hope he misses me," Howie said into AJ's shoulder. 

"He and Brian have been doing the same thing we're doing right now." 

"Really?" 

"Yeah." AJ patted Howie's back. 

So AJ was comforting Howie, Brian comforting Nick, Kevin holding down the fort and managing the aftermath of the Enquirer article. It was like it took two of them to get together, but the whole band got involved in them breaking up. He realized for the first time how huge the implications were for all of them. How if two of them were dating, it was like they were all dating. It wasn't just he and Nick who were connected. They all were. Nick was just the only one he was used to falling asleep with. 

On the way out of the hotel, heading to the venue, a guy with a big camera followed them all the way to the car, shouting questions. His words seemed to blur together, and Howie was thankful that Kevin took the lead. 

"It's not true," Kevin called. "No comment." Then the car whisked them away. 

*** 

"There was a time that the pieces fit, but I watched you fall away,  
I've done the math enough to know the dangers of our second guessings" 

*** 

Another week passed, with minutes like hours, the loneliness so thick that Howie could taste it. It was like he'd lost the feeling in one side of his body and he was making due with what he had left. His ability to take off and be alone the second they stepped off stage was rivaled only by Nick's. 

They rode back to the hotel in the limo, none of them feeling much like going to a club. It was raining. Howie stared out the window at the streets, gleaming and wet, car lights blurring and passing. AJ sat next to him, and Nick on the other side of AJ. They didn't sit across from one another, because that would mean having to look at each other. It was better to sit on the same side with someone between them. Howie could feel Nick over there, sense the waves of emotion coming off him. They seemed to be a lot like Howie's - loneliness, abandonment, plain old hurt. Except Nick's seemed to have a touch of hostility to them. Howie wasn't sure who the hostility was directed at, or if it was just at the world in general. 

The limo pulled up at the hotel and everyone climbed out. They walked through the rain and into the lobby, signing a few autographs and walking in the direction of the elevator. 

Kevin put his hand on Howie's arm. "Want to head into the bar for a drink or a coffee or something?" 

"Sure." 

The group split into two and Howie and Kevin went into the bar, two bodyguards on their tail. Kevin got a couple of teas from the bar and picked a table. 

Howie sat across from him, trying to make eye contact, trying for a smile that he couldn't manage. 

"I haven't talked to you in a long time," Kevin said, and Howie realized what this was about. They were repairing the distance between them, getting to know each other again. For the past few months, Nick was the only one Howie had paid attention to. He supposed it wasn't exactly fair. 

"How's Kristin?" Howie asked, although he couldn't entirely bring himself to care. 

"Good," Kevin said. And that was the start of a conversation. A real, live conversation that deliberately had nothing to do with Nick. 

They headed to their rooms about an hour later, Kevin going in to bed. Howie walked into his room and stood in the middle of it, looking around, wondering what to do. He knew there was a fully stocked mini bar. He needed ice. 

He grabbed his ice bucket and headed down to the little room that contained an ice machine and two Coke machines. He was fully unprepared to meet Nick in the doorway. 

"Sorry," Nick mumbled, veering to the left. Howie veered to the left too and quickly veered back to the right. Nick did the same thing. 

"Sorry." Howie took a step back to let Nick pass, except Nick stepped in the same direction. 

"Jesus," Nick said. "Get out of my way." Nick pushed past and headed down the hall, full ice bucket in hand. Howie tried not to watch him walk away, but he couldn't help it, and a single word resounded through his head. Ouch. 

*** 

"Cold silence has a tendency to atrophy any  
sense of compassion  
Between supposed lovers/brothers"  


*** 

The next day, they switched busses, AJ and Nick staying on one and Howie moving in with Kevin and Brian. He threw his suitcase in his new bunk and sat on the new mattress. He was a little ticked that he had to be the one to move. He liked the other bus, and he liked hanging around AJ. The way it worked out, Howie kind of felt like he'd been the sore point. The loser who was causing problems and had to leave. 

Kevin and Brian had a bigger TV and a PlayStation hooked up to it. The game of the moment was Gran Turismo, an older game that Brian couldn't give up because he got to drive fast. "Come on, Howie," Brian said. "I'll kick yer butt." 

Howie wondered what Nick and AJ were doing on the other bus. They could be playing cards, or staying in their own bunks, living in comfortable silence, enjoying the new tension-free atmosphere now that Howie wasn't there. 

When they arrived at the next hotel, everyone walked through the door in single file. Howie tried to keep his distance from Nick, tried not to notice when Nick searched his pocket for something and a piece of paper fell out of it. 

Howie bent down and picked it up without looking at it and tapped Nick on the shoulder. "You dropped this," he said. 

"Thanks," Nick said, but it sounded acidic. Howie knew it wasn't his imagination. 

"What's with you?" Howie asked. 

"Nothing." 

They kept walking, and it was inevitable that they'd have to stop for autographs. Anger, Howie thought as he put down his suitcase and grabbed a pen out of his pocket. He'd never thought about that coping mechanism. 

He glanced at Nick signing autographs, a fake smile on his face, so far away now that Howie couldn't even have a civil conversation with him. And Howie knew they'd officially broken into two separate pieces. 

***

A month passed without incident. They were always surrounded by people. It was easy to not have to be alone with Nick. Brian did stuff on the bus like imitating Mr. Magoo and flipping through magazines commenting on people's wardrobes. Kevin started deep conversations on the meaning of life and the greatest book ever written. They all settled on the Bible, even if it was written by several authors. Then they debated the greatest album ever made, and they all settled on Thriller. 

The day before his birthday, Howie walked down the hall in what was now a routine trip to the ice machine. He walked through the door, into the ice machine room, to find Nick getting a Coke. 

"Happy birthday," Nick said. 

"It's not until tomorrow." 

"It's after midnight. It's your birthday." 

Howie looked at his watch. Nick was right, of course. Nick knew Howie's birthday as well as he knew his own, and dates and times stuck in their heads no matter what. "Thanks." 

The Coke landed in the bottom with a thud, and Nick took it out and handed it to Howie. "Early birthday present." 

"Thanks." 

Nick put in a series of coins and got another Coke, tucking it under his arm. 

"Do you think we were in love?" Howie asked. He had no idea why he was asking it, or where the courage had come from. It just seemed as good a time to ask as any. 

Nick jingled the change in his pocket, looking at the wall behind Howie. "Well, duh. Definitely." 

Howie wasn't sure what to say to that, so he took the lid off his ice bucket. "Just wondering." He hit the button and caught the falling ice in the bucket. Behind him he heard the crack of Nick opening the Coke. 

He took longer than necessary to get the ice to level out in the bucket, as if it required a lot of concentration. There was a pause, Nick shuffling toward the door, and then a large belch. 

"Pig," Howie said without turning around. 

"I just gotta be me, baby," Nick said in a stupid voice, and the door swung shut behind him. 

Howie walked back to his room by himself, and made a drink once he got in. And he realized, for the first time, that they'd be friends again. Eventually. And he could learn to live with what was left. 


	2. Synchronicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howie and Nick reach an understanding, and Nick finds God. Sort of.

Nick figured he did a pretty good job of putting himself back together again. Like Humpty Dumpty. A little glue in the form of a new girlfriend, and it didn't matter if he rarely saw her. She did the trick. A little varnish in the form of staying in his room, finding his own things to do, creating his own world that not only didn't include Howie, but it didn't really include any of them. The new separate busses made it easier to drift in and out, from their existence into his own, and after awhile, he actually started to have fun. 

He read. Nick was never a big reader. Reading, he figured, was something functional you had to do to get from one place to the next, like driving a car. It was good to know how to do it, but it wasn't the sort of thing you'd do for fun. Then they stopped at an open air market in Santa Monica, where a library was selling books for a quarter apiece, and he bought six of them. One was called "Famous Last Words" and was a compilation of the last words of famous and infamous people, like the general who said "From that distance, they couldn't hit an eleph--." Another was called "Blind Items," which was about the gay editor of a porn magazine who was dating the star of a Baywatch-type show, and everywhere they went, they had to run from the press. Nick's favorite was a worn paperback called "How to Talk to Your Angels," and he devoured it. 

That night, in his hotel room after the show, he used some of his "How to Talk to Your Angels" information by sitting on his bed silently, legs crossed, eyes closed and breathing deeply to clear his head. "I would like to talk to my angels," he said to the empty room. "Here is my question." Then he realized that he didn't have a question and lay back down to keep reading. 

Then he thought of one and sat back up, breathing deeply again. It was impossible to entirely clear his head. No matter how hard he tried, words swirled around in his brain, all in women's voices, and he figured his imagination was a woman. 

"I would like to talk to my angels," he said again, firmer this time. "Here is my question...." 

Someone banged on his door. Nick jumped and said the word "Jesus!" involuntarily. "What?" he yelled. 

The voice on the other side was Howie's. "Are you going out?" 

"No," Nick called back. 

"Okay," Howie said. Howie probably wasn't surprised. Nick hadn't gone out with them in weeks. 

He stayed up for another hour before making the conscious decision to sleep. There was no one around to talk to. No one to have sex with. That wasn't entirely a bad thing. Nick had spent the last eight years of his life wishing he could get more sleep. He wasn't going to turn down the opportunity now. 

They wandered out to the busses the next day, and Nick held his suitcase in one hand and the paperback in the other. Howie bent his head to read the cover. "How to Talk to Your Angels." 

Nick folded the book in his hand and thought he felt a slight flush across his face. "Yeah." 

"That's cool," Howie said, then veered left and walked to his bus. 

*** 

They'd been driving about three hours, and Nick lay on his back on the couch, dangling his foot listlessly. He sat up suddenly and called out to his dad, who was also his new bus driver. "Can we stop?" 

That required getting on the radio with the rest of the caravan, but Nick didn't care. He was bored. And maybe just a little bit lonely. 

The busses pulled into the next rest stop and Nick climbed off, stretching his legs and inhaling the sunshine. The gravel crunched under his feet as he walked to AJ's bus and opened the door. 

He found AJ curled up in his bed, asleep. AJ opened one eye and said, "What?" 

"Can I hang out with you?" 

"No," AJ said, pressing his face into the pillow. "Go play with Howie." 

Nick sighed and kept walking, passing Brian's bus. Brian had the window open a crack. Nick stood on his toes long enough to look in and see Brian playing the guitar, a notebook open in front of him. Okay, Brian was out. 

Nick stopped in front of Kevin's bus, pushing the door open to see Howie sitting there at the table, laptop open in front of him. And oh God, this _wasn't_ Kevin's bus. 

Howie looked up from the blue glow of the screen. "Hey." 

"Hey. I...." Nick paused for a second. This wasn't where he'd meant to end up at all. He could just mutter a "nevermind" and continue on to Kevin's bus, but that might make it a little obvious. "Can I hang out with you for awhile?" 

Howie stayed focused on the screen. "Sure." 

Nick climbed the steps and shut the door behind him, feeling the bus lurch and go forward. And it was too late now. He was stuck. 

Nick sat down on the couch. If this were AJ's bus, he'd head to the fridge and find something to drink, or rifle through the CD's, or check out the recording equipment in the back. If it were Brian's bus, he'd sit there and tell the best jokes he'd heard recently. If it were Kevin's bus, they'd find a good movie to watch. But the main thing Nick was used to doing when he was on the same bus as Howie was having sex, and they couldn't do that anymore. He should have brought his book. 

"Krystal just sent me this joke," Howie said. "Is it ever hilarious." 

Nick slumped into a half laying position, trying to ignore the tinge of jealousy. Krystal was way too young for Howie. There was no way anything would happen. But old habits died hard. 

Howie finally closed the laptop. "What do you want to do?" 

Nick shrugged at his hands. "I don't know." 

"I have a movie you like," Howie offered. "Basic Instinct." 

Nick couldn't help but snort. Sharon Stone had been the subject of numerous preteen wet dreams when he first saw that movie, and it was something he'd told Howie back when he told Howie everything. Back when he and Howie spent hours curled up in bed, wrapped in a roll of blankets, kissing until their mouths ached and their hearts filled with so much emotion that it spilled into their real lives. 

Howie went over and rifled through a stack of video tapes, extracting the one with the white cover and Sharon Stone's animal-like eyes. He put it in and flopped down on the other side of the couch, which gave Nick enough room to stretch out his legs even more. 

By the time Sharon asked Michael Douglas if he'd ever fucked on coke, Nick was asleep. He dreamed that he was underwater, floating gently through the cool blue world. He wasn't wearing diving gear, but he could breathe. And three angels came into view, white robes drifting silently. One had blond hair, one had brown hair and one had red hair, just like on the cover of his book. 

He swam closer, wanting more than anything to touch them, and there was music coming from somewhere, although it was music he didn't recognize. He got close enough to the dark haired angel to see her eyes, and they glowed. 

The glowing eyes made his heart catch in his throat, and when he tried to inhale again, he got a mouth full of water. And then the angels were all hands, grabbing him, holding him down. He could see the surface of the water from there, and the sun hitting it, but they wouldn't let him swim. He knew he was drowning, and the lack of air blurred the edges of his vision, made panic thrum through his body like a bolt of lightning. 

He woke up suddenly, gasping in a mouthful of stale air, and remembered where he was. The TV was off, and dusk had stained everything outside a dark gray. 

He didn't realize he was shaking until he stood up, hurrying back to find Howie sleeping peacefully on his bed. "Howie." 

No response. 

"Howie!" 

Howie opened his eyes halfway. "Yeah?" 

"I had the freakiest dream just now and it scared the shit out of me and I'm actually shaking and I had to tell someone because I'm afraid to go back to sleep and I can't stop...." 

Howie rolled onto his back a little, lifting his arm as he did it. "C'mere." 

Nick rolled into bed, laying so his back was to Howie, and felt Howie's warm arm around his waist. Nick felt his heart float back into place, its beats return to normal, everything erased by the time he snuggled back into Howie. 

"Dream of your angels," Howie said sleepily. 

"I did. That's the problem." 

"Then dream of nice ones," Howie said before they drifted back to sleep again. 

When they stepped off the bus at the next town, Brian said, "Is this starting again?" 

"No," Nick said quickly, lugging his suitcase toward the fans waiting at the back door of the hotel. 

*** 

Nick stayed in again that night while AJ and Howie and Kevin hit the nearest club. He couldn't bring himself to open his angel book again. If he had guardian angels, and they were sent to him by God, why did he get that dream? 

After a few minutes of laying there, Nick remembered the warmth of Howie's arms, and how his heart ached just laying that close to him, and it occurred to him. Maybe the angels gave him the dream so he'd go to Howie's bed. Maybe that was the answer to his question. The question he hadn't even gotten a chance to ask. 

He leapt off the bed and went into the hallway, wearing an old T-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. He padded barefoot to Howie's door and knocked on it. He wasn't even sure what he was there for, really. But his new realization had to be another sign. 

There was a pause, and Nick wondered briefly if Howie wasn't back from the club yet. But it was getting late, and besides, Howie _seemed_ to be back. Nick could feel his presence on the other side of the door, like they were separated magnets that pulled toward each other even when someone tried to yank them apart. 

He sensed himself being watched and knew Howie was looking through the peek hole. Then the door opened an inch and Howie glanced over the chain lock. "Nick." 

"Can I come in for a second? I wanted to talk to you about what just happened to me. It'll just take a second." 

Howie paused, glancing back into the room, and Nick felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on him. "You have someone in there." 

Howie smiled weakly. "Sort of." 

"Whatever," Nick snapped, not even sure why he was snapping. He turned on his heel and rushed back down the hall, pushing into his room and making it to the bed before he burst into tears. 

Some bitch. Some bitch from some club in some city. And why was he so upset, anyway? This was over. He knew it was over. And why was he even crying? He'd cried enough when they initially split. There was some resurgence of emotion happening in his body, some realization that despite all the weeks of hard work, there was just a little of the pain left. And Nick wasn't sure if he was crying because he'd just realized it, or because Howie was with someone. Either way, there seemed to be no way of getting rid of it. 

He sat on the bed and curled his legs against his chest, his arms making a perfect spot for him to rest his head on. He knew the tears would stop if he could just will them away. 

But when a knock came about 15 minutes later, they still hadn't. Nick wiped his eyes and tried to make his voice normal. "What?" 

It was Howie's voice. "Can I come in?" 

"Why?" And there was that snap again. 

"I just want to talk to you." 

Nick waited, staring angrily at the bed, until Howie said, "Come on, Nick." 

Nick got up and strode to the door. Okay, Howie could come in, but it didn't mean Nick had to be a nice guy about it. He swung the door open long enough for Howie to catch it and strode back to his bed. 

Howie crossed the room slowly and sat down on the bed, looking at Nick with wide eyes. "Are you okay?" 

And just the sight of Howie, and the concern in his voice, and that warmth radiating from him took away Nick's ammunition. Nick sniffled helplessly and wiped his eyes with the palm of his hand. "Yeah. I think I'm just a little in love with you still." 

Howie's gaze dropped to the floor, eyes looking dejected, profile somber. "That's okay," Howie said quietly. "So am I." 

Just the sound of it brought more sniffles, and a couple of tears dripped down his cheeks again. "I just wish I could hug you, you know? I just miss hugging you." 

"I know." 

Nick moved his head quickly and stared at the curtains. They looked to be white satin, and there was a light undercoating of white nylon. The curtains. He'd think about the curtains. It was something. 

Howie grabbed Nick's knees and pulled them down, reaching in to wrap his arms around Nick's waist. Nick wrapped his arms around Howie's shoulders and they hugged, long and hard. He'd forgotten how little and warm Howie's body felt next to his, and that scent. Howie smelled like some kind of deep, woodsy cologne layered on top of a scent that was always on him, impossible to describe but impossible to forget. 

Nick pressed his face into Howie's hair. "I'm sorry." 

Howie's lips moved against Nick's shoulder. "So am I." 

Nick tried to sigh, but it came out more like an audible shudder. "Will you sleep in here tonight?" 

"Yeah. Just give me a few minutes." 

Howie left, and Nick could just imagine what Howie was doing on the other side of the door. He was walking back to his room, going in and apologizing to the girl, giving her a sweet kiss goodbye. Nick could almost see it. He could imagine the look on Howie's face. Every movement and hand gesture. Every nice word. Sometimes Nick felt like part of him was in Howie's head. Like Being Howie Dorough. 

Howie came back in and went over to the bed, climbing in next to Nick. Nick lay down and wrapped his arms around Howie's waist, snuggling against him and inhaling the sweet smell of Howie's hair. And even if it was only for tonight, it was nice to have Howie there. It made his whole body melt a little, everything around him go from chaotic to calm, and he was asleep before he knew it. 

He woke up the next morning to the same smell, his arm still around Howie, Howie's body moving ever so slightly from his gentle inhales and exhales. He was still asleep. 

Nick watched the mop of almond brown hair in front of him, and without thinking pressed his lips to it and kissed the top of Howie's head. Howie didn't move, still lost in his dream world. 

Before he knew what he was doing, Nick's lips brushed across Howie's neck, lightly so he wouldn't wake Howie up. He let them drift along the smooth skin, keeping them slack as they moved from Howie's hairline and down to the top of his spine. 

Howie rolled over suddenly and Nick realized that he hadn't been asleep at all. He'd just been laying there, thinking and maybe waiting. Nick tried to look in Howie's eyes to get some kind of reading, but there wasn't time. Howie put his hand on Nick's neck and pulled him down and they kissed, deeply and slowly. 

Nick freed his hands from the sheets and crawled between Howie's legs, feeling their cocks press together through their boxers, their bodies ache toward each other like they'd been waiting all their lives for this. This movement, this action, was so painfully familiar that Nick felt a shiver race up his spine just from doing it. And maybe Howie would stop him. Maybe Nick would end up laying on his back in bed again, half asleep and burned with rejection. But he suddenly felt as if he had to try. 

They lay there silently, grinding their hips together, hands getting increasingly clumsy. Nick reached down and slid his hand into Howie's boxers, feeling the hardness and moisture that mirrored his own, and he knew he was okay. And then it seemed it like they'd never been apart at all. This act was so familiar, this waking up next to Howie and having sex without saying a word, no noise but labored breathing and the creaking of the bed. 

They fumbled as they got undressed, still wrapped in the white cocoon of sheets, Nick moving long enough to reach in his bag and grab the necessities. And the next word spoken - the first word they'd said all morning - was when Nick slid into Howie, closing his eyes because he could barely stand to watch, and Howie whispered, "Easy." 

Easy. Right. It had been awhile. But it didn't seem to matter. It still felt the same, still brought the same rush of emotions. Nick moved slowly. Gently. He wanted this to be good in case he never got it again, in case it was all he ever had. 

Not 10 minutes passed before they were shuddering, breathing heavily and rhythmically as they moved into each other. Nick reached down and wrapped his hand around Howie's cock, tugging gently until Howie came with a soft sigh. It wasn't much, but just hearing it triggered Nick's body, and he held Howie as tightly as he could and came with a long shiver. 

They lay for a few silent moments, wrapped together. When Nick spoke again, it was the first sentence since they'd woken up, and even though he said it at normal volume, it seemed ear splitting. "Can I ride your bus again?" 

He propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at the big brown eyes and the soft lips that made his heart sigh. Howie looked back at him, face showing a thousand emotions, and Nick felt the waves of worry and heart ache and history pass between them. 

"Okay." 

*** 

When the bus stopped later that day, Nick was still asleep, arm slung across Howie and holding him tightly against him. The bus stopped unexpectedly, and even the squeal of the brakes or the clatter of the door opening wasn't enough to wake them up. 

Nick opened his eyes to find Kevin peering down at them, eyes sharp and watchful. He expected Kevin to bitch, or tell him something on behalf of the rest of the group. But Kevin just watched. 

"Is this starting again?" Kevin asked. 

Nick didn't even know Howie was awake until he heard Howie's voice ring through the stale air, clear and confident. "Yes." 

Kevin looked at the front of the bus, voice a little distant. "Just be careful," he said, and disappeared as quickly as he'd appeared. 

Nick remembered what it had said in the book about having favors granted. Even more important than asking for them was the idea of saying "thank you" once they were received. But it had to be out loud. That was the rule. 

Nick cleared his throat and said it a notch louder than usual. "Thank you." 

"You're welcome," Howie mumbled, squeezing Nick's arm and drifting back to sleep.   



End file.
